CRO-MAGNON HOSPITALITY
As the two Cro-Magnon men rounded an abrupt bend in the elephant path, the jungle and forest ended sharply at the edge of a wide clearing before a sheer cliff, its surface dotted with many cave entrances. Near the escarpment base a dozen cooking fires blossomed against the darkness, and the shadowy forms of members of Gerdak's tribe moved about them.
For a moment Tharn and his companion remained standing at the forest edge watching the activity. The cave lord's acute sense of caution, without which few dwellers of this savage world lived long, kept him motionless while his sharp eyes took in every detail of the surrounding terrain. This business of approaching a village of strangers—and therefore enemies!—was a move not lightly to be taken, even when accompanied by one of its inhabitants.
Trakor tugged at his arm. "Come, Tharn! Come and receive the gratitude of my father and my people for saving me from Sadu. When they hear how you slew him with nothing more than a knife they will worship you as a god!"
His vague reluctance still with him, Tharn permitted the youth to urge him into the open. They were well into the clearing before one of the men about the fires caught sight of them and gave a warning shout.
Instantly a score of warriors caught up their spears and formed a bristling line facing the newcomers, while others piled dry branches on the fires sending flames shooting high to illuminate the scene with almost midday brightness.
"Put down your spears!" cried Tharn's companion, laughing. "It is I—Trakor, son of Kygor. Where are your hunters' eyes that you do not know me?"
But the line of spear heads did not waver. Now, moving from behind the formation of fighting men came Gerdak, chief of the tribe. Short, squat and very ugly was Gerdak. Set nearly flush on his broad sloping shoulders was a bullet-like head, almost hairless as the result of an old scalp infection. Firelight reflected in his pig-like eyes made them glow like burning sparks as he glowered from beneath shaggy brows at the tall stranger at Trakor's side.
"Who is he?" growled the chief, jerking a grimy thumb at the cave lord.
"He is my friend," Trakor said, and there was the beginning of anger in his tone. "His name is Tharn. In all the world there is no greater fighter."
Nothing changed in Gerdak's expression. "He is not one of us. Tell him to go at once or I will kill him!"
Trakor stiffened. Suddenly his anger flamed into the open—flamed with such intensity that he completely forgot the object of his wrath was his own chief.
"YOU will kill him! Ha! There are not fifty among you who could kill him! With only a knife he slew Sadu—leaping upon him as though Sadu were no more than Bana, the deer. He comes among us as my friend—treat him as such!"
As he spoke Trakor, beside himself with the hot anger of the young, had advanced until he was standing directly before the burly chieftain. With his last words the boy so forgot himself as to shake a fist in the other's face.
With a lightning sweep of one knotted fist Gerdak struck the infuriated boy squarely in the face. So terrible the force of the blow that Trakor's feet completely left the ground and he fell, unconscious, a full ten feet from where he had been standing.
Even as the boy's body was falling Tharn acted. With a catlike bound he reached the chief, fastened a hand about the man's bull neck and lifted him into the air. Holding the dazed Gerdak in a grip of steel he began to shake him until bones creaked in protest and his senses fled and he hung, limp and lifeless, in the circle of those mighty fingers.
As Gerdak crumbled to the ground, his spellbound warriors came to life. With shouts of rage they leaped forward to close upon the stranger who had dared to lay hands on their chief. But the agility and muscles that had brought their owner through countless jungle battles were more than Gerdak's warriors had reckoned with.
With a panther-like leap Tharn reached Trakor's prone figure. Snatching it from the ground to a place across his shoulder the cave lord turned and raced for the safety of the forest. Behind him came a shouting, cursing mob of raging fighting-men, brandishing spears and knives of flint. Had they thrown those spears within the first few seconds, the outcome would have been certain and Gerdak avenged. But they did not, and seconds later Tharn and his burden were lost among the shadows of overhanging trees.
For more than an hour Gerdak's warriors ranged the vicinity in search of the pair, thrusting their spears among the tangled undergrowth and racing along the game trail on the chance their quarry was following it. Finally they reluctantly abandoned the hunt and returned to where the body of their chief still lay on the clearing floor. Discovering a spark of life yet remaining, they bore him to his cave and after a while succeeded in bringing him back to consciousness.
It would be many suns before Gerdak fully recovered from his experience, but deeply planted in his dull-witted mind were the seeds of fear—fear that the mighty stranger called Tharn might return.
A weaving, bobbing sensation was Trakor's first impression as his hurt brain struggled back to consciousness. Beneath him was warm smooth flesh, and now and then he felt the brush of leaves or a vine against his back and sides.
When he opened his eyes he found himself being borne at a rapid pace through the forest top. For a moment he was unable to grasp the meaning of his strange position, then a familiar voice said, almost in his ear:
"Lie still for a little while. We are almost there."
It was Tharn's voice and with it came the memory of what had transpired before Gerdak's fist struck him unconscious. With a sigh, Trakor let the tenseness leave his body and he lay quietly across his new friend's broad shoulder.
Onward went Tharn, threading his way among the tangled labyrinth of branches with practiced ease. Broad boughs bent alarmingly beneath the double burden as he neared their tips while passing from one tree to another; but always he found the next before the weight proved too heavy. Yet so accustomed to such jungle highways was the cave lord that he seemed fairly to be flying through the trees.
Finally Tharn came to rest upon a wide branch high above the ground. Gently he deposited Trakor to a sitting position beside him, permitting the boy to rest his back against the tree's bole.
So intense was the darkness about them that Trakor was barely able to make out the form of his rescuer although he was only a few inches away. Trakor grasped a small branch to insure him from slipping from his high flung perch and for a little while said nothing, waiting until he could be sure the words would come out without a quaver.
"Where are we, Tharn?" he said finally, pleased at the matter-of-fact tone he was able to muster.
The darkness hid Tharn's understanding smile. "A short distance from the caves of your people."
"They are no longer my people," Trakor said hotly. "Even when I told them you were my friend they were against you."
He was silent for a moment. Then: "What happened after Gerdak struck me?"
Briefly Tharn told him of what transpired in the clearing. When he was finished, the boy was thoughtful for a little while. The realization was strong that never as long as Gerdak lived would he be able to return to his own people. That alone did not cause him to regret what had happened; it was the knowledge he might never again see his father and mother that was hard for him to bear. As he was still hardly more than boy quick tears stung his eyes and he was thankful the darkness prevented his companion from seeing these signs of weakness.
The turn events had taken within the clearing had hurt Tharn, too. Lost was his opportunity of questioning Roban, son of Gerdak, about the party of Ammadians Trakor had mentioned. He broke the momentary silence to say:
"Have you any idea where the Ammadians scaled the cliffs you mentioned?"
Not until now did Trakor recall the reason his new friend had sought out the caves of Gerdak. The realization that his own unthinking anger was largely responsible for Tharn's failure to get the information was galling and he said so at length.
Tharn halted the flow of self recrimination. "Gerdak," he pointed out, "would not have allowed his son to tell me anything. I hardly expected any other reception so we have lost nothing.... Do the Ammadian travelers who pass this way scale the cliffs at the same place each time?"
"No," Trakor replied sadly. "There are many places that afford a way over them."
"And you recall nothing Roban said which would indicate the place this last party used?"
"No, Tharn. It could be any one of ten." When the man beside him made no reply, he added: "What do we do now?"
Trakor's use of the word "we" brought the realization to Tharn that he was now faced with two problems. The first, of course, was to locate the trail of Dylara's abductors—and already his keen mind had hit on a short cut to that end. The second problem showed every indication of being a great deal harder to solve: What was he going to do with Trakor?
To permit the boy to return to the caves of Gerdak was unthinkable. The chief would be sure to blame him for what had happened; and while he might not actually kill Trakor he would certainly make his life unbearable. Nor could he leave this inexperienced youngster to face the jungle alone. Sadu or Jalok would be feeding on his soft flesh before two suns were gone!
The only alternative was to take the boy with him on his search for Dylara. It would mean slowing his pursuit of the Ammadians to a relative crawl—a thought galling to the cave lord....
"What do we do now?" Trakor said again.
Tharn shrugged lightly, his decision made. "We wait awhile. Now we shall sleep for an hour or two."
"Up here?" Trakor's voice faltered a little.
"Would it be better to sleep on the ground?" Tharn asked with grim humor.
As though to underscore the question, the distant scream of a panther came to their ears. Trakor shivered. "The tree is better," he admitted. "It is only that I have never slept in a tree," he laughed uncertainly. "I suppose I can get used to it."
"Lean your back against the trunk," Tharn said, "and allow your legs to drop on either side of the branch you are sitting on, resting your feet on the branches directly below. That way you will not fall, no matter how soundly you sleep."
The boy obeyed, and while he found the position less restful than the heap of pelts in the cave of his father, it was bearable. He knew he would not be able to sleep, for already the chill of the jungle at night was creeping into his bones.
Seconds later he was sleeping soundly, while above him Tharn too slept in a fork of the same tree.
A hand shaking his shoulder awoke Trakor with a start. Crouching on the branch beside him was Tharn, his magnificent body faintly discernible in the diffused light of Uda, the moon.
"Come," Tharn said. "It is time we set about locating the path used by the Ammadians in scaling the cliffside."
"At night?" Trakor asked wonderingly. "Would it not be better to wait until there is enough light to pick up the trail?"
"I have another plan," Tharn replied evasively. "Here," he added, stooping. "Place your arms about my neck."
Although he did not understand the reason behind the order Trakor followed his companion's bidding. An instant later he was swept up and out into the maze of branches while borne in Tharn's arms.
Where before much of the passage through the middle terraces of the trees had been hidden from Trakor by darkness, now the way was lighted by the moon, disclosing to the youth's horrified eyes the awful depths beneath. Gradually Trakor's fears grew less as he observed the unfailing sureness with which Tharn trod this high-flung pathway, and in its place came an abounded admiration of his agility and strength. Never before had he heard of a human who used the same avenues as little Nobar, the monkey—and used them with the same nimbleness and speed. Occasionally warriors of his tribe lay in wait for game among tree branches, but such climbing was as nothing when compared to this.
That uncanny instinct which so often had guided Tharn through unfamiliar territory did not fail him this time, and within half an hour he and his burden were gazing from the safety of a high branch at the deserted cliffside containing the caves of Gerdak.
At the sight of the familiar scene a great weight seemed to press against Trakor's heart. Was his new-found friend deserting him—returning him to certain suffering at the hands of short-tempered Gerdak? Did not Tharn know that never again would he dare to return to his own cave—that the chief would make him pay a thousandfold for championing the giant stranger?
Dreading the reply, he asked: "Why have we come back here, Tharn?"
"You told me Roban, son of Gerdak, knows the route taken by the Ammadians," said Tharn. "I am going to ask him where I may find it."
"But you cannot!" cried Trakor. "The instant Gerdak and his warriors see you their spears will cut you to pieces!"
"Then I must keep from being seen," Tharn observed lightly. "Point out to me the cave where Roban sleeps. I will enter and get him, bringing him here that I may question him in peace."
Trakor was horrified by the suggestion. "It is impossible! Mighty as you are, you could not hope to enter and leave the chief's own cave without being caught. Always several warriors sleep just within the entrance, for there are several among the tribe who hate Gerdak and he fears assassination while he sleeps."
For a long moment Tharn seemed lost in thought and Trakor was congratulating himself upon his success in talking the cave lord out of his mad scheme. But Tharn's next words showed his silence had been prompted by another reason altogether.
"Describe Gerdak's cave to me," he said, "telling me, if you can, where in it Roban is most likely to be sleeping."
For a second Trakor was tempted to disclaim all knowledge of the subject. But then the realization came that Tharn would go ahead with his plan with or without the information he sought.
Carefully he told all he could about the chief's cave, describing in minute detail its layout and plan, together with such information as where the guards were likely to be sleeping and the probable location of Roban's sleeping furs.
Roban, he said, would not be difficult to pick out. He was about Trakor's own age but very skinny, with long legs and arms and a peculiarly shaped head, the crown rising almost to a point. He was an unpleasant youngster, sly and cunning, and generally disliked.
Tharn listened attentively; and when his new friend was done, he unshipped the quiver of arrows from its place on his back and handed it and his spear to Trakor. The grass rope he left coiled across his shoulder and under the opposite arm, and his flint knife remained in the folds of his loin-cloth.
"Wait here for me," Tharn said. The boy nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and watched the other slip easily through the branches to the ground at the clearing's edge.
Broken cloud formations dotted the midnight sky and Tharn waited patiently until one of them could obscure the full moon long enough for him to gain the foot of the steep scarp a hundred yards away. Several times small clouds blotted out Uda's radiant beams; but not until a sizable one moved into the proper position did Tharn leave the protecting shadows of the tree.
With great bounding strides, silent as the shadows themselves, Tharn crossed the clearing to the cliff's base. For a few moments he skirted its edge until he located a series of man-carved ridges which formed a rude and perilous ladder to the cave entrances above. With the sure-footedness of long practice he swarmed lightly upward, past cave after cave, until he came to rest a few feet below the yawning hole marking the entrance to Gerdak's dwelling.
He crouched there motionless, his ears straining for some indication that those within were still awake. But other than a faint sound of someone snoring, he heard nothing.
With infinite stealth he drew himself onto the ledge outside. To his unbelievably sensitive nostrils came the assorted smells of a Cro-Magnon shelter. Through the medium of scent he established that five men and two women were within, all of them his ears said were sound asleep.
Suddenly the cloud was gone from the moon's face and silver effulgence bathed the cliffside, leaving Tharn exposed to possible discovery. And so, crouching, the naked blade of his flint knife held ready, Tharn entered the lair of Gerdak, chief of a Cro-Magnon tribe.
As Tarlok, the leopard, stalks the wariest of grass-eaters, so did Tharn make his way into that black hole. No human ear would have been able to mark his passage as his naked feet, seemingly endowed with eyes of their own, threaded their way past one sleeping body after another.
Two warriors lay athwart the entrance; these Tharn stepped across, so close he could feel the animal heat from their bodies. Past a stack of spears piled against a side wall, avoiding a block of stone on which were piled several baked clay pots and dishes, skirting a heap of furs where an old woman slept, mouth open and the breath whistling between toothless gums ... these were danger points along the way.
At last he reached the rear wall of the cave—and there he found the object of his search. A lanky length of tanned human lay face up on a pile of skins, breathing heavily, arms thrown wide. A few feet away, near a side wall, lay the stocky form and hairless pate that belonged to Gerdak, the chief.
The time had come for the high point of danger in Tharn's plan. Crouching beside the sleeping form of Roban, Tharn tightened his hold on the hilt of his knife, swung his arm in a short savage arc and brought the butt of the knife hard against the young man's skull!
There was a single violent upheaval of limbs which Tharn smothered instantly beneath his own weight, a sobbing cry which died unborn as a mighty hand pressed against the parted lips ... and Roban lay senseless.
Swinging the unconscious youth to his shoulders, Tharn turned to make his way back to the cave entrance. Three cautious steps he took ... and then a muscular hand closed about his ankle!